A Useful Technique
by Amledo
Summary: While John is off to the shop, Sherlock suffers an unfortunate accident. DI Lestrade is left to deliver the grim news. Sherlock/John established relationship.


(A/N: Oh yes, I'm back with more Sherlock fanfiction. As always you can expect Sherlock/John. I don't own the show, so don't even get me started there. On with the show!)

A Useful Technique

"Dead? How can he be dead? He was fine an hour ago…I only left to get some milk from the shop," John said, not able or willing to process what Lestrade had just told him. The Detective Inspector frowned softly and put a steadying hand on John's upper arm as he raked his other hand through his greying hair.

"Someone shot him John…it's being investigated. You really should sit down. I think shock is setting in…please John…"

"Oh do be quiet Lestrade. Or do you want me to put you up there with Anderson in my book of astoundingly ignorant people?" Sherlock stood imperiously in the doorway to their flat. He was bare-chested and much paler than normal, hair mussed and obvious beads of sweat standing out on his skin. Were it not for the gauze wrappings around his torso (which John did not approve of the state of) Sherlock could have passed for having done a strenuous exercise. There were two spots that indicated the injuries, one in the high right side of his chest, and the other lower, a graze across his left side.

At the Consulting Detective's appearance it was John who ended up catching a staggered Lestrade. The man had gone from grim-faced to sputtering and pallid in a nanosecond. He even allowed Sherlock's insult to go right over his head as he regained his bearings.

"You were dead," Lestrade said once he'd found his voice. John and Sherlock had been sharing a meaningful glance, each man silently evaluating the other for damage from the incident.

"No, in fact I wasn't. You all really are terribly unobservant. I dare say you lot would have shipped me off to the morgue had I opted to continue the charade," Sherlock observed the still puzzled look that remained on the Scotland Yard official's face, and sighing he explained. "It was a meditative state, trance, whatever you understand best. It slows breathing and heart rate to nearly undetectable levels. Very convincing when one needs to play dead. And in its earlier stages it is supremely useful for staving off an or…" Sherlock's voice was cut off with an 'oof' as John's hand clapped firmly over his mouth. The shorter man was entirely red-faced and glared meaningfully at Sherlock, who promptly licked John's hand.

John made a face of discomfort, but allowed the taller man to continue swiping his tongue across the offending palm, at least until a resigned look entered those sharp eyes. When the Doctor pulled his hand away he wiped it on Sherlock's trousers and accepted the grateful smile that Lestrade sent him. The smaller man had become a very effective buffer for Sherlock's more inappropriate language after their relationship commenced in its current romantic facet.

"Well anyway, I was thinking that we ought to get you to hospital for a proper checking up on," Lestrade said calmly, he wasn't about to say anything to tempt Sherlock into another outburst. Of course, Lestrade did find it weird that this go round John hadn't been bitten for his censorship efforts.

No, this time it had been a lick, and after a few moments of an intense stare, the Consulting Detective pulled his lover in for a searing kiss. Lestrade pointedly turned away to pop back into their flat.

"You have no idea how pleased I am that we were out of milk," Sherlock breathed against John's lips, one arm locked firmly around the other man's back, the other impeded by bandages. It was then that the full weight of the situation struck the Military Doctor in the chest. He suppressed a whimper of fear, and buried his head carefully against Sherlock's chest.

"And you've no idea how dearly I wish you'd consider coming with me from here on out," John insisted softly once he'd found his breath. Sherlock's answer was to kiss him again, lingering until Lestrade could leave it no longer and dragged both of them for a trip to hospital.

(A/N: I'm sorry it's so short, but I was just kind of hit with this idea, it was a sheet in my notebook that I felt needed to be typed.)


End file.
